Substitute
by Cebren
Summary: What a fine day to walk through the city. And Tino, with his beloved Berwald in his mind, has a reason to be as keen of his surroundings as he is.


The sunlight shone bright through the gap between the curtain and the wall. Tino pulled the curtain to the side and looked outside, his face pressed against the window in the very manner of a child in the first snowy day of winter. His breath created a thin veil of vapour on the glass, and Tino drew a B shape on it with his finger. After a short moment of consideration he proceeded to envelope it with a heart. Leaving the curtains open to bring some of the sun's warmth to the room, Tino grabbed his jacket and stepped out of the door.

The chilly autumn air greeted him as he walked with springy steps through the park next to his house. The air felt and tasted crispy – Tino would argue it was possible to taste the air, like you can taste the delicious humidity in the dawn after a rainy night – but the sun was warm and bright and kept him from feeling cold even in his thin jacket.

The crunchy pebbles on the ground moved only slightly as Tino stepped on them. Perhaps the reason was the bright coloured leaves covering large parts of it, and in Tino's opinion making the place look a lot nicer. Tino loved all the seasons, but if he had to choose he'd say he enjoyed a stroll through the park the best in autumn when the trees were painted with different shades of red and yellow.

Tino smiled to an old man sitting on a bench as he passed him by. He remembered the same kind-looking man had sat there every morning at this time for as long as he could remember, together with his similarly aged dog. The grey dog stared at the pigeons strutting along in front of him in hopes of finding something to eat, and let out a lazy bark that wasn't enough to scare the birds away.

The fountain next to the old man's bench seemed to be under construct: a man in a neon orange vest and another in a neon green one were bustling around it, but Tino couldn't make heads or tails as to what exactly they were trying to do. He didn't have any recollection of the fountain having been broken, either, but mentally complimented the construction team for getting down to work this quickly.

The pleasant silence of the park soon changed to the more bustling air hanging about the centre of the city. It was still early morning and thus the streets were quieter than they would be at say, four o'clock in the evening, but the cars were noisy enough to make a clear contrast to the tranquillity of the park. Tino stopped to wait for the pedestrian traffic light to turn green before crossing the street. Looking around to kill time, he lazily noted the white paint of the zebra stripes was starting to wear off, and then a bit more to his interest he saw a group of Romanes driving past in their black Mercedes. There was always some truth to the stereotypes, he thought with a slight chuckle, and hearing the slow beeping of the traffic light turn more rapid he crossed the street.

Tino bit his lip as he passed the same old beggar lady that sat in front of the market hall door every day. He always felt so heartless when he passed beggars by without paying them any attention, but he knew that giving them money was a bad idea. He remembered reading from the papers how unlikely it was that the money given to the beggar actually went to a good cause, so he tried to do like the others and close his eyes from the more shadowy side of reality in front of him.

Instead of continuing to walk forward following his usual route, in a flight of fancy he opened the heavy wooden door to the market hall and stepped in. He was immediately surrounded by the most tempting aromas from here and there, the fragrance of sweet pastries mixing with the mouth-watering odour of sausages and other meat and fish products. Tino couldn't resist the temptation of sitting down and having a cup of steaming hot black coffee and a fresh butter bun, despite the fact he had drank some coffee at home only a moment before stepping out. There was something remarkably different, however, in drinking coffee from his favourite mug in the silence of his home, or in a plastic cup at the always busy and brisk market hall. Tino breathed in the scent of the coffee before taking his first sip. He was pretty sure his favourite thing about coffee was the smell. The taste and the cultural impact weren't far behind, either.

A centimetre or so of coffee was left in the bottom of Tino's cup as he threw it in the litterbin. Even though he agreed it was wasteful, it had become a sort of a habit to leave some like that each time he was drinking coffee. Unless it had been spiked with anything alcoholic, of course. Tino stood up, smiling and thanking the lady at the café register before making his way to a large counter full of different kinds of marine food. Tino pondered for a moment which kind to buy, but ended up with Berwald's old favourite, smoked salmon. After handing a slightly rumpled bill to the cashier and receiving the fish and the change, Tino put the packet into his bag and proceeded to walk through the aisles, throwing several admiring looks at the blood sausages at that counter, or the chocolate bars with pretty vintage wrappings on this, or the cute colourful buttons and ribbons on another. He kept himself from buying anything else, but made a mental note of buying some sweets from the store furthest from the main entrance the next time one of his friends had a birthday.

Not many knew about the other entrance to the market hall, or so Tino liked to think at least. He still remembered how excited he had been when he had found an alternative way out of the hall, one that led to the harbour, and from there to this most charming little alley he had ever seen. Back when he had first found it he had excitedly told about it to Berwald right away, and for several days they had made it a habit to take that way instead of the more obvious one, but thanks to the secret passage being a bit longer than the more conventional road they had soon grown tired of it. Today, however, Tino decided to renew his memories in spite of the longer walk.

The sailing boats in the harbour bobbed gently up and down in the lazy waves. The lake wouldn't freeze until in a couple of months, but Tino knew they would be taken to their winter storages way before that. Tino thought it might be fun to try sailing, and decided to ask Gerd if he and Jónas would like to go with him some day.

Tino had to take a moment to remember the way he had to take to get to his "secret" little alleyway, but as soon as he saw the large building that had one of its walls completely covered with red ivy in front of him, he remembered to take left and sneaked into a shadowy, well hidden little street. Everything in it stroke as charming to Tino: the old paving stones under his feet that seemed slightly older than the ones on the main street, the old-fashioned buildings, the tiny stores here and there. Out of the stores his favourite was the little Christmas store, but this time he decided to only look through the display window to see the little statues of elves and reindeers, the fluffy snowmen and the fake fir trees before moving along. Tino preferred a rustique feeling to things, countryside romance, but places like this were quite lovely on their own right as well.

Exiting the little alley Tino had to walk the bridge across the river. The sun glistened on the waves so brightly he had to keep his eyes on his shoes to keep from getting blinded. The backyard of the hotel on the bank of the river was empty, and Tino took a shortcut jumping over the fence surrounding it. All that was left now was a short walk through the main street. The street was a bit more crowded now, and Tino could hear a calming humming sound of people talking to each other in low voices mixed with the sound of cars, and, if you listened closely enough, of the construction workers further ahead, working on the seemingly never-ending renovation of the mall.

Passing by a bus stop Tino happened to glance at the large ad pasted on its wall. A blonde man holding a bottle of long drink in his hand, saying something ridiculous in Swedish. Tino chuckled. The man didn't really look like Berwald, not counting the hair and eye colours, but Tino found it amusing to imagine Berwald in the ad instead. "Grrrripa och smaka", as if the quiet stern man could ever pull it off the way the man in the commercial did.

Before he even noticed he had already arrived to his destination, and opened the door smiling and greeting people as he passed them by. Finally he was at the right door, and he knocked on it before stepping inside.

"Good morning, Berwald!" he greeted and pulled a chair for himself. He opened his bag and pulled out the smoked salmon, setting it on the bedside table. "I brought you a little something. I thought you might like some salmon? It's your favourite, isn't it?"

Tino leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He hated this room, more than he hated any other place in the world. It was too white, smelt too sterile, and it was always too quiet in the wrong way. And worst of all, the man who slept in this room never woke up.

Tino sighed and took a moment to bring back to his mind what had happened earlier that morning.

"So, I was walking through the park..."


End file.
